Imprisonment
by coralianbutterfly
Summary: This is from Kingdom Hearts. I run a roleplay and this story comes from it. Riku clones made by Maleficent. Daera is imprisoned and mistreated for being born as she was. This tale is where it all began and what made her. "Mother broke me."


**Author's Note:** The summary does well at explaining. This is about my OC character, Daera, and her brother, Raven. You won't understand this much if you don't play KH, or if you aren't a part of our RP. However, do feel free to read on.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kingdom Hearts or its characters. I don't own Raven, Blaze-chan does. I _do_ own Daera, though.

**Warnings:** Abuse and a semi-slash pairing, but it's not really paired. You'll get it later on. Maybe some sexism, if you think like that.

--

I never really understood it much. Why Mother hated me so. I was strong: stronger than my older brother. I was fast: faster than the one I was created of. I was smart: smarter than that lackey she calls Pete. And I was perfect: perfectly sadistic and ready to kill or worse for her. So why was I such a failure, even if I could do so much?

I was born a girl.

My name is Daera. You pronounce that like, "Die-air-uh." Brother half-named me. His name is Raven. Mother wasn't ever very good at names, you see. She didn't even give us proper ones until I was three and Brother was four, which is why it became habit to call him Brother and for him to call me sister. To be honest, mother never cared much about us at all. She only visited us once a year, on Halloween, to assess how our growth was coming along. Pete, the stupid lackey, raised us with the help of some of the greatest leaders in the worlds. Captain Hook (he was the worst diaper changer), Jafar, Hades… they all helped.

The story started as Mother began to notice tiny things. She'd never been told the gender of her children, for she assumed that they were both boys. Brother and I are only clones of our father, Riku. How I ended up a girl… no one knows. Perfect copies of her precious toy, her dearly missed pawn. Mother hated the Heroes of Light for taking him from her. Brother and I were raised to hate them, too. We were told that we'd get our father back one day and that they would all be killed. I was overjoyed to hear that I would have a father. A father like Riku, no less.

--

I had been confused for the longest time. Mother called me a boy, and even gave me a boyish name. Dare. Raven and Dare. It would have been perfect. I was meant to surpass him in every way. I was supposed to be faster, stronger, more bloodthirsty. Which, in all honesty, I could have been. Though, I will always think that my sadistic ways were much worse than his.

Brother knew that I was a girl, as did Pete. They never told Mother, for they again assumed she knew. Brother decided that I'd be named Dare-a, since it was more girly. Pete, the stupid animal, somehow evolved it into Daera. Either way, I kinda liked it. It was the only thing from that brute that I ever did like, honestly.

--

One day, Mother came in to give us an assessment. She told us that this one determined whether or not we were ready to begin our jobs as pawns. Though she didn't word it like that, the meaning was implied. She looked us over and then decided to test our developments as people.

"Is this necessary?" I heard Brother ask with a blank face. His voice was done cracking by now--he was fourteen after all--and it was nice and deep like that of a teenage boy should be. He was, of course, asking about the fact that mother wanted us to remove all clothing from the upper halves of our bodies.

"Yes," she stated coolly. I knew the reason that she was asking is because she had suspicions. I, after all, did not have a deeper voice at the age of thirteen. It didn't even show signs of deepening like Brother's had. And my chest was becoming a little all-to-obvious.

So we listened. I didn't feel embarrassed exposing my chest, like most girls would. I hadn't been raised in modesty. I was assumed to be male, so I took baths with Brother. I didn't see many girls opposed from those twins and Kiiuu, since we were generally locked within the castle of Hollow Bastion.

Mother instantly went into a rage. Everything made sense now. My hair being a little softer, my shoulders being more narrow, my girlish face, everything. Being as physically fit as possible, mother knew that I didn't have fat storage, the bumps on my chest were of female origins. Brother and I quickly put our shirts on again before Mother started yelling.

"You fools! How_dare_ you hide something like this from me!" I cried out, though from what I didn't quite know. I was suddenly on the ground with my hand to the side of my head, pain in that area. She'd hit me with her staff. "Worthless!" Mother hissed. "Completely worthless! You can't ever be anything like Riku if you're a woman!"

The next thing she did, we were all stunned by. Suddenly, Brother and I were in our room. Mother appeared a second later and grabbed me by the front of my shirt. The only reason I think Brother was staying silent is that he didn't quite know what was going on.

"For hiding such a thing, and for being more useless than Pete--" Oh, so she didn't like him too. That was honestly a thought in my mind. "--I sentence you to death." I felt some wind and, before I knew what was going on, I connected harshly with a wall. It hurt. A lot. I fell to the ground and laid there for a second, thinking that was the worst. She'd only kill me instantly, right? I wouldn't ever know it was coming… right?

Wrong.

I looked up and the only thing I saw was Brother. I could see emotions in his face, especially those eyes so much like mine. Usually he was calm and masked, so… why was he showing so much emotion now? Emotion like anxiousness, worry, and even some fear? I knew he wouldn't want me to die, but… could it be that bad?

Then everything went cold. Cold and black. Cold, black, and _rough_. I could vaguely hear Mother's cold laugh and even Brother. Wait… Brother? He was yelling for me, I was sure. He sounded desperate. I put my hand in front of me and learned that I was encased in concrete. I was in a tomb. I was still alive. By more feeling around, I noticed that the space wasn't very big. It was large enough that I could sit up and lay down completely outstretched, but I couldn't kneel or stand.

"Brother?" I asked quietly as his voice started to die away. I would later learn that Mother was surrounding me with spells. I couldn't hear him, but he could hear me. How cruel. "Brother?" I called out, this time louder. No response. And then it hit me. I was going to die there. In the concrete tomb. Alone, hungry, blind, and deaf to the world. My eyes would never adjust to the blackness because there was no light. (I also learned that she had put a spell that recycled my air so that I wouldn't suffocate in mere hours.) What hurt the most is that the last thing I would see was Brother's face. His horrified, worried face.

It was the first time in my life I was ever afraid of anything.

"Raven!" I yelled. Fact: Any time I used his name--not Brother--the situation was generally a bad one. "Raven! Raven!! … RAVEN!!" I began clawing at the inside of the walls. Anything to get out, anything would do. I was known for my claw-like, sharpened nails. I clawed at the wall for an hour or more, yelling out Brother's name. When I stopped, my fingertips were bleeding, I had no more nails, and my throat was sore. Then I began pounding on the cement like it was a door. I did that for an hour while my hands began to bruise.

After trying to get out until what I thought was deep into the night, I finally passed out. I knew I was crying in my sleep 'cause the only dream I had was the look on Brother's face before I was sealed.

--

I began to pass the time by counting it. Second by second, minute by minute, by hours, by days. I counted. I felt like I was keeping a record of how long it took me to die, even if that record would die with me. Every once in a while, I would hear an odd noise. But it sounded so distant… I couldn't place it.

By what I thought was the fourth day, I began to loose my mind. The counting faded into continuous whispering of a language that didn't exist. Random babbling that made no sense to anyone except for me. Though, not even I fully got what it meant. I sat in a corner, hugging my legs. It seemed to be the only thing that was keeping the excruciating pain in my stomach from killing me. I thought that my body was trying to eat me and sometimes I'd start screaming about it.

Then the rocking started. I'd rock back and forth, whispering, eyes wide. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I barely breathed. I was dying and I didn't know how much longer I'd last. There began to be scrapes. I wanted to end the misery so much that I dragged my wrists across the cement. No matter what I did, it was never enough to kill me.

Time was no longer of use to me, but there was one point when I thought for sure it was over. I don't know how I managed to live so long. Maybe some secret part of me was actually dedicated to living and did all it could to keep me so. I didn't know how much time had passed or how much would pass, I only knew that my time was running out. Fast.

I don't remember any of this as a person. I feel like I was watching myself from inside the box. As if I was sitting there, watching, unable to do anything. That's why I can't describe it too well. I just simply don't know. My mind was whittling away to nothing as my body deteriorated with it. I was a goner, and I knew it.

One time, though, in the haze I was surrounded in, did I notice something odd. Yelling. I knew the voice well, it was all I had. All I would ever have. But, for the life of me, I couldn't recall who the owner was. I heard the voice, but I didn't respond. I didn't even move out of my trance. My eyes were wider than ever--unblinkingly, no less--and I hadn't slept a wink for what felt like forever. Those eyes had to be as lifeless as I felt unless they were sparked alive by insanity. I wouldn't know. Clawing noises followed and the yelling got louder. Someone was coming. My mind called back to the person, but my lips did nothing. My voice resonated the insane whispers of uselessness. I was broken.

In fact, I didn't even notice as my black, lonely world turned to nothing but white. I hated it. I hated whoever took me into the light. I wanted to beat them until they put me back, but I couldn't move. I was blinded by light and there was all kinds of loud noises in my ears. After so long of being blind and deaf, I was overwhelmed. I could feel warm tears cascading down my cold skin. I was constricted tightly by something warm and familiar.

Wait… I could feel. I hadn't felt anything but a course roughness and the chill of darkness for what felt like so long, that my sense of touch was being overwhelmed. Everything felt like it was burning into my skin. I wanted that tomb back so badly because the world I was shoved into hurt so much more. The light, the sound, the burning, even the smells were all so unbearable. I was crying, but no matter how much I wanted to scream, I couldn't. The whispers that my broken mind insisted on producing were still coming out of my lips like slaves released to freedom.

Then I was floating. My eyes were so wide, I thought that they'd pop out, but still all I saw was white. I could even taste the air now. It wasn't clean, but it was fresh. Fresher than what had been in my black world. Now that I think back, I was deprived of my senses for so long that they were coming back full force to make up for lost time.

The familiar warmth of whatever was letting me float was the only thing that didn't hurt. It didn't burn. If anything, it was helping me get my own warmth back. Somewhere along the way, I'd started losing my body temperature like a corpse would have. But that's what I'd been. A living corpse. I knew that I was probably colder than ice.

Within seconds, I was laying on something soft. My rambling spewed out still, and I began to notice that I was trembling all over. The yelling came back and I thought that if I still had a piece of heart that was left and unbroken, it would have shattered. _Don't be sad_, I wanted to tell the voice. _Just don't be sad._ The warmth tried to leave, but I used a death-grip. It wasn't going to leave me. Not now. I pulled it close and latched on tightly, squeezing as if it was all I had, which it was. I could feel the hysterics building up and suddenly my mind went blank. I went numb.

--

Suddenly, I knew who I was. The blackness faded and the white returned. But it was dimming. I could see. The rambling had stopped and I knew that somewhere along the way, I'd just gotten into continuously sobbing. The high-pitched pain in my ears died away and I could hear my own gentle sobs. The searing burning of touch was gone and I mentally explored what I felt. Soft sheets, a comfy (to me by now) mattress, clothes, skin, hair… and warmth. My warmth was here? The warmth hadn't left me like I thought it would? I opened my eyes further and suddenly everything washed onto me.

I'd been put in a box by Mother. I tried to claw my way out of that box, but failed. I counted my time in there, until… Everything faded. I was lost, dead inside. Nothing mattered anymore. I'd lost my sense of self. But then it came back. From somewhere in the distance, I was blinded. At first, I hated what had taken me out, but now I didn't know what I could ever do to return the favor. My mind had somehow managed to repair itself after being exposed to the world. I still couldn't stop sobbing and though the whispers had stopped, I couldn't say anything. I couldn't scream, or groan, or whimper. The torturous pain in my stomach was nothing but a dull ache at the moment. I hurt in every possible way, but I felt no pain.

It was then that I noticed that warmth. My eyes opened completely and looked up. Holding me as if I was going to break at any touch, was Brother. Granted, I was clinging to his--at the time--favorite shirt for life, probably ruining it with my salty tears. His breathing was suddenly as loud as my sobs. Though it was slow like he was sleeping, those eyes stared back at me. Even if his face didn't tell anything and his eyes were sealed, I could look past it all. He was relieved because I seemed to be mostly okay. That's when sleep claimed me. It had been days and I felt utterly exhausted. My grip loosened and my tense muscles relaxed. Never had sleep been so sweet.

--

Morning had never seemed to harsh. My still-weak eyes were unaccustomed to the bright light of the sun washing through the window. I had to wince and close my eyes for a little bit longer. Once I finally opened them, I noticed more things. My face felt odd. A little stiff and tight, probably from all the dried tears. I felt sore all over from being cramped into that small box. And then I noticed Brother. He was still staring at me. I would have smiled, but I couldn't. That hurt the most, I think. I wondered if I would ever be able to smile again. Not that I had smiled too much before, but still. Never again was too harsh.

"G'morn'n," I murmured. It was cracked and hoarse, as if I was just regaining the knowledge of how to talk again.

Mother chose that moment to appear. I looked in her direction and noticed the cement box in ruins. There was an opening just large enough to have pulled me out, though it still mainly stood. Mother looked irritated at the sight of it, but I think she got all she needed to. Her sadistic, cold smile spread across her face. Oh, I knew that she was aware of the torture I'd gone through. She knew I was broken, almost shattered. She knew that she could remake me.

"Dare," she stated coldly. "I guess that's not your name. Pete tells me it's Daera. How _cute_." Mother walked over and I did a full-body flinch, clinging close to Brother. _Don't let her get me again_, I thought. _Keep that woman as far away from me as you can._ Mother merely laughed at me. "You must be so sick, child. I bet you're hungry. I wonder if I should get Pete to bring breakfast up here, or if I should make you go down for it yourself." She was the epitome of cruel. "Both of your assessments are over. Raven, by getting her out you have been merited. Daera only lives because of you, but the fact that she lived so long gives her merit, too." Oh, I wanted to kill her. I just didn't think I could move then. "I'll expect you both to appear for briefing in a few days on your first 'mission'." With a flash of that green magic-fire, she was gone.

"She'll pay," I muttered. "Everyone will pay. No more mercy…" I had mainly been talking to myself, but I noticed Brother there. I gave him the strongest hug I could--it was still terribly weak--and laughed humorlessly. "Everyone but you, Brother. Everyone but you."

--

After the imprisonment, I was like a slave. I killed for Mother and so much more just to earn any glimpse of the praise Brother got. Never did I get it. I soon learned to love the smell of blood and I'd get worked up over torturing my prey to their deaths. I was cruel, I was a sadist, and I was corrupted. Brother was the only claim to sanity I had, even if he was as far from it as I was. I was beaten for his errors and mine, given second-rate everything (from food to weapons to clothes and sleeping materials), and had to watch Brother be awarded for things I did. Life was hard, it was cruel, and I wanted to end it. I became obsessed with stealing Daddy away from his family, just for the simple hope that maybe he'd love me, too. I would do anything it took to get him.

But I hadn't always been like that. Before I was broken, I was rather pleasant. The scrapes on my knee were bad enough to me, let alone something more nasty or gory. Brother and I were close, yes, but not as. I probably wouldn't have stayed under Mother's rule and rebelled against her much like Daddy had. I smiled a lot, and I was more at ease with the world. To be honest, I was much like a little orphan girl. I didn't have any real parents, just caretakers. I had my brother, and he was all that I had. But, for the most part, I was innocent, carefree, and girly.

Mother broke me, and for that I'll never forgive her. But, sometimes, I wonder if maybe I was broken all along.

--

**Author's Note:** Daera's personality before she was "broken" is almost exactly like the personality she gained after she died. For those of you who know what I'm talking about. You don't have to review this, but it'd be much appreciated.


End file.
